


You're my cup of tea

by keysburg



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Canon Weirdness, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort Food, F/M, Fluff, Full Blown Spykink, Kidnapping, Mayhem, Organized Crime, REPTILES, a beautiful bromance is blooming, i can't write fluff without spy nonsense crashing the party, i don't know anything about tea, not again poor Daniel, why is this 8k idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9111565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keysburg/pseuds/keysburg
Summary: "First, time spent on reconnaissance is never wasted.  Second, almost anything can be improved with the addition of bacon.  And finally, there is no problem on Earth that can't be ameliorated by a hot bath and a cup of tea." -Jasper Fforde, Shades of Grey--but c'mon, that just sounds like Peggy Carter!Daniel shops for tea to help Peggy with her homesickness.  I can't write fluff without spy garbage and I can't write anything without abundant descriptions of food.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paeonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paeonia/gifts).



He jumped when he heard the hiss. He couldn’t help it. Daniel had been focusing intently on stretching against the rope binding his hands behind his back. The night sounds of the desert were only a soft soundtrack to his exertions. The cry of a coyote or the hoot of an owl meant nothing to him. He was listening mostly for footsteps as he strained against his bonds. 

Then the hiss broke his concentration. It came from the far side of the tent, opposite from where the moon was rising. His blood ran cold as he thought of the bodies that had dragged the SSR into this case--victims injected with something like reptile venom. Daniel hadn’t seen anything like that in the tent before the sun went down, so he prayed he was right and hissed three times in response.

The hiss came twice more and he relaxed. “Eighty-eight,” he called softly. The tent began to rustle and then a dark form wriggled under the edge of the tent. 

“Daniel? How are you restrained? Still have your leg?” Peggy’s soft whisper was a welcome sound. She had found him again. 

“Leg, yes. Crutch, I have no idea where it went. Restraints are rope. Got a knife?” She ended up slipping one into his hands so he could cut himself free. It was too dark in the tent for her to do it without hurting him. It was slower, but it gave him time to provide all the information he had on the camp and its personnel. 

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Peggy said, laying out their next moves. Daniel had no time to ask questions before a fireball erupted on the other side of the camp, signalling that they needed to move.

* * *

When it was all over but the crying, all the men at the camp were in custody and a lot worse for wear. The SSR operation that leveled their little desert hideaway hadn’t been in the mood to use the kid gloves. Peggy checked him over herself in the headlights of a Jeep.

“I’m fine, Peg. A little dehydrated. There’s some bruises from when they tried to soften me up. I don’t think anything is broken.”

“I can’t believe we had to rescue you again, Sousa,” Jack interrupted, swaggering into the pool of light. “How many times have you been kidnapped now?”

“It’s not my fault people think the crippled chief is an easy victim to abduct,” Daniel snapped. “Or maybe no one wants to deal with your charming personality. I did manage to take a couple out this time.”

“That you did, Killer,” Jack said. Peggy’s fingers threaded through Daniel’s. She squeezed his hand as Jack rattled on. “The two bodies left in your wake weren’t much help when we were trying to find you. Maybe next time just incapacitate one, so we have someone to question.”

“Sure, Jack, in the middle of a fight I’ll make sure to only lightly maim someone--”

“Jack, can you oversee prisoner transport back to the office? I don’t want Agent Hartley doing it alone,” Peggy interrupted. “You’re so much better at keeping perps in line.”

“Sure, Carter. See you kids back at the shop--assuming damsel Daniel doesn’t end up in distress again before that.” Having gotten his licks in, Jack wandered off, happy to have someone to boss around. 

“Things are well in hand here,” Peggy said after Jack was gone. “Ready to go home?”

“You have no idea.”

* * *

“Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch.”

Peggy never woke gently. She always snapped awake as if still sleeping in a foxhole. His own consciousness was generally slower to arrive, but the startled and painful complaints from her side of the bed woke Daniel fully. He rose from the bed, belting on his prosthetic over his sleep shorts and grabbing his crutch before heading for the kitchen.

Peggy had driven them straight home last night. He thought his rough appearance was why she resisted her normal temptation to swing by the office and do “just one thing.” At the house he had realized her condition wasn’t much better than his. She was just as dehydrated, tired and sore as he was. In addition, her pale English skin had developed a sunburn while she scoured the desert for him. Daniel nicked a jar from the fridge, tucking it under his arm before pouring a glass of water and returning to the bedroom. Peggy sat on the edge of the bed.

“I didn’t mean to make you get up,” she said, taking the glass and reaching for the aspirin bottle on the nightstand. “I bet today is another brutal bloody sunny day.” 

“It is, but we don’t have to face it for a little while yet. Let me see all the damage.” She eyed the jar dubiously before drawing her nightgown over her head. He winced to see the patches of bright red skin around her neck, chest and the back of her arms. He unscrewed the jar, which contained an aloe gel that Rose made and sweared by for sunburn. Peggy tensed just before he touched her, but relaxed when the cool gel met her skin. Daniel applied it as gently as he could, using just the pads of his fingers to paint the back of her neck and down her arms. 

“It’s sticky,” she complained. 

“Better than itchy later,” he said. “Breakfast?”

“You were the one that was kidnapped, and now you’re going to make breakfast too?” she asked. 

“You always burn the eggs,” Daniel teased.

“We could go out to eat,” she retorted. 

“Then you’d have to put on real clothes,” he said, shrugging. “I need to move anyway. I’m stiff as hell. Sitting in a car is the last thing I want to do, after being tied to a chair for hours.”

He got his way. 

It’s not that it didn’t hurt. He was seldom lucky enough to be kidnapped by anyone left-handed; right handed assailants meant his left ribs took most of beating. That was his crutch side and it felt very tender indeed when he leaned on it. He hadn’t been lying though--as long as he moved carefully, getting his blood moving and stretching slowly would help. 

The kitchen was a bit light on supplies. They were out of bacon and there were only a few strawberries left, rapidly softening on the counter. There was butter, cream, and eggs, so he whipped together a quick muffin mix, gently folding in chopped bits of the remaining strawberries. 

By the time Peggy emerged in her robe, he had a whole spread laid on the coffee table, where they could relax on the comfortable couch instead of sitting at the table. The muffins were halved, buttered, toasted, and accompanied by whipped cream and soft-boiled eggs. He had a big mug of coffee and cream for himself and had set out Peggy’s teapot to gently steep next to her favorite cup and saucer.

Daniel bit into a toasted muffin half as he watched Peggy pour her cup of tea. The rich butter of the toasted crumb gave way to the sweet berry underneath. His eyes closed and he sighed a little in contentment as he washed it down with barely too-hot coffee. There was good food and the soft sounds of his wife preparing her tea told him he was home and everything was alright. They really got too few moments like this. 

He opened his eyes in time to watch Peggy sip her cuppa, but she looked vaguely remorseful.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is this the last of the orange pekoe that Mr. Jarvis sent over?”

“It is. We’re out of your usual tea bags anyway. I thought the good stuff would do. Were you saving it for some reason?” While Peggy used tea bags for convenience, Mr. Jarvis frequently sent her different varieties of loose leaf try. Even when he was off somewhere with Stark, packages arrived at the house. Daniel had thought nothing of using some of it. There would be more.

“Yes--no. Not really. That blasted man!” She took a sip, clearly enjoying it despite whatever was bothering her. Daniel raised an eyebrow, and waited. She sighed.

“He won’t tell me where he’s been buying his tea locally. He’s more than willing to share and to tempt me with new varieties, but he won’t let me go and buy any myself!” She plonked her teacup down before reaching for an egg and tapping her way into it with more force than was necessary. Her frustration over such a simple matter had him trying to hide his smile behind his coffee cup. He failed. “Don’t you laugh at me, Daniel Antonio Sousa!” The irritation in her voice had faded to something like affection before she had finished. 

“I’m sorry, Peggy. You have to admit, it’s a little funny. Agent Peggy Carter of the SSR--master of interrogation--can’t find out where an English butler does his shopping.”

“It’s not polite to interrogate your friends,” she said primly. “Besides, he knows all my tricks and I haven’t managed to find any leverage that would convince him to cooperate.”

“So you _have_ interrogated him.” She turned a bit pink.

“And followed him. I’ve trailed him through Chinatown a dozen times, and he’s never purchased tea there. I’ve followed him through every part of this blasted city when he’s running errands and turned up nothing. The tea only appears when I’ve been too busy to watch him.”

“He knows you’re watching,” Daniel said, his voice rich with amusement.

“I don’t know why you think this is so funny,” she said. 

“C’mon, Peg. Think of it this way--it’s a glorious life that still manages to hold some mystery, even from you. Imagine how bored you’d be if you knew everything.” 

Peggy gave a little shrug and reached for a muffin of her own, wincing as she did so. “I suppose that’s true. There are some things I’d certainly prefer not to know, including how dusty and hot the blasted desert is here. Give me a good hilly moor or wet marsh to trample across any day.” Peggy’s voice held a trace of wistfulness under the irritation, the way it always did when she was thinking about England. He had never figured out how to ameliorate her homesickness entirely, so he stuck with what he knew best.

“Your sunburn isn’t bad enough to get infected,” Daniel pointed out. “Trench foot, on the other hand…”

“Pssh. Nothing a bath and a hot cup of tea can’t fix.” She smiled as she bit into the strawberry muffin. 

Daniel smiled back, an idea growing in his mind.

* * *

It wasn’t hard to demur when Peggy decided to go into the office for the afternoon. Prisoner processing indicated the camp had held only the mid- and low-level employees of the criminal organization du jour. They likely worked for the Talmage family, one of the crime families trying to move in on Los Angeles after the war. Building a case against the head of the family for his kidnapping and related crimes would be a tedious business, requiring a lot of good detective work. Normally they would be happy to leave something like this to the FBI, but the unusual venom-like poisonings taking out rival mobsters had dragged the SSR in for investigatory and laboratory support. Now that they had kidnapped him, it was personal. Jack and Peggy would have to handle it anyway--Daniel’s new status as their latest victim would contaminate the evidence in the eyes of a future jury, even if he knew he could be objective. They could just barely get away with Peggy working on it, assuming her name was left off the paperwork. 

Peggy looked a bit concerned when he told her he’d stay home, but he assured her he just wanted to work on his report in peace. If he went into the office, every agent there would be pestering him for something--a signature or a story. It made him a little sick when he thought about recounting how he’d killed two men. It would be bad enough to write about--the bloom of red on a man’s chest, the squishy give of another’s windpipe under a luckily aimed elbow. He wanted to avoid verbally recapping it while he looked into the shining eyes of some of the greener agents. They tended to focus on how it would feel to be victorious, rather than the risk they could end up dead meat instead. If he waited a couple days, Jack would have every agent in there sick of talking about his latest kidnapping and at most Daniel would only have to squash a tall tale or two. 

When Peggy had departed, he picked up the phone.

“Stark Residence--Edwin Jarvis at your service,” came the answer.

“Hello, Mr. Jarvis. This is Daniel Sousa.”

“Oh Chief Sousa! It was very good to hear of your safe return. What may I do for you?”

Jarvis was less solicitous when he knew what Daniel was after.

“Did Ms. Carter put you up to this? I told her quite clearly, I wouldn’t be moved.”

“No, Mr. Jar-- _Edwin_. I want to do something to surprise her, and you know how difficult that is. She manages to figure out what will happen before I’ve even finished planning. Of course, if you’re keeping someone else’s confidence, I won’t ask you to betray it. I understand the importance of keeping a secret.”

“Do you? I confess, I’ve become a little giddy with the intrigue of it all. You mustn’t think that is why I won’t tell her, although I confess the real reason isn’t that much more noble.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I am a bit afraid she will offend the shopkeeper. This woman happens to be rather fastidious and I’d hate to have to find a new place to shop. This location has very high quality at reasonable prices.”

“I’m sure if you just told Peggy that--”

“Of course! It’s not that I don’t trust Ms. Carter’s sensitivity. You know I think very highly of her! But she does let her enthusiasm get the better of her manners at times--and my source is so particular--”

“I understand. I have a question, and it won’t hurt my feelings if you say yes, Mr. Jarvis. Do you think I would also offend?”

“I think I could trust your decorum,” Jarvis said slowly. “Can I also trust your discretion?”

“You have my word, Mr. Jarvis.”

* * *

Even with the ongoing case, Daniel had to engage Rose to slip away without Peggy noticing. She was busy, but not too busy to keep track of his whereabouts. It would chafe at him, except he knew it was only motivated by concern and wasn’t a judgement of his capabilities. Enrolling another accomplice wasn’t ideal, but someone would need to know where he went in case he didn’t return. Meanwhile, Rose could keep a secret and was willing to reassure Peggy that Daniel hadn’t wandered out of pocket.

So Daniel found himself riding shotgun in one of Stark’s fine cars, Jarvis at the wheel. The man wouldn’t whisper a word about where they were going and only told him several hours would be needed for their outing. He did imply that Daniel should wear a tie, and so he humored the man.

On the ride, Daniel found himself a little at sea. He and Peggy spent quite a bit of time with the Jarvises, but he couldn’t think of a time where he and Edwin had been alone together. It was this sort of situation manners were created for. 

“It’s very kind of you to take me yourself,” Daniel said, “but I’m not sure it was necessary.”

“I assure you Chief Sousa, Li Baozhai would not assist you without an introduction.” Daniel squirmed in his seat a little. 

“Why is Ms. Bow-shy so sensitive, exactly?”

“It’s Mrs. Li, unless she tells you otherwise. There’s nothing sensitive or mysterious about her, I promise you. She just demands the respect a woman of her age and experience deserves.” Daniel was surprised to find themselves in the neighborhood of Union Station, nowhere near New Chinatown.

“Are we taking a train?” he asked. Jarvis shook his head as he turned to cross the train tracks. 

“Most people don’t remember where Old Chinatown was. It was relocated partially to put the train station here, but there’s still a few holdouts, if you know where to look. I am afraid we will have to walk a bit.” Jarvis parked on the street and waited patiently while Daniel maneuvered his prosthetic leg out of the unfamiliar car. When he was ready, Mr. Jarvis started off at a reasonable pace, allowing him to follow. As they walked, something prickled Daniel’s awareness. He wasn’t sure if it was the dilapidated condition of the neighborhood, that no one else was on the street, or just that he was unused to following Jarvis’ lead.

Jarvis zigzagged through a few blocks and then turned down a street that was badly in need of repaving. It was almost like slipping into another country. Colorful flags hung from shops, competing for space with items for sale. Unfamiliar characters crowded on signs, probably announcing the wares. Daniel had made the trip to New Chinatown a few times, once on a case and once accompanying Jack on a hunt for some noodle dish he had eaten during service in the Pacific. In New Chinatown, salesmen shouted their wares with friendly smiles, waving customers in from the street. In contrast, Old Chinatown sat with a quiet dignity despite being only a couple blocks long and the crumbling veneers of the buildings. Jarvis pushed open a wooden door that had only a small red and gold sign next to it.

* * *

Daniel ducked through a low doorway, planting his crutch carefully on an uneven tile floor. It was dim inside; strange and pungent scents assaulted his nose. There was a lingering edge of smoke underneath, making him tense. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He couldn’t detect the source of the smoke but it remained at a whiff, so the building wasn’t burning down. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he could see shelves on his right side. They held chests of varying sizes. On his left was a long counter, currently unmanned. The wall behind it was covered in little drawers, like in an old-fashioned apothecary shop. At the back of the store hung a heavy red curtain, likely dividing the public area of the shop from the private. As he looked around, a tea chest caught his eye. It was carved from wood and about a foot long. The top boasted a shallow carving of a country scene, the details highlighted with what looked like the careful application of a darker stain. He opened it to find rows of small square tins nestled inside. 

“Come in, Mr. Jarvis,” an accented voice called in precise English from beyond the curtain. “I’m interested to meet your friend.” Jarvis waved Daniel through the curtains. 

Behind the curtains was a small room, mostly filled by a round table with four chairs, set for tea with at least a dozen extra cups. An elderly Chinese woman sat in the chair facing the curtain. 

“Hello. Welcome to my shop,” she greeted him as Jarvis came in behind. 

“A pleasure, ma’am,” he said politely, offering her his hand. She shook it, a twinkle in her eye, before offering him a seat. Jarvis made the introductions while Mrs. Li poured tea into small handleless cups.

He wasn’t much a fan of tea, but he knew better to refuse something politely offered. 

What Mrs. Li offered them was nothing like the dark tea that Peggy drank. Not only was it lighter in color, but it was strongly floral in aroma and flavor. It reminded him of the flowery scent sometimes present in Los Angeles’ damp end of winter. 

“How do you like my jasmine tea?” Mrs. Li asked. 

“Better than I expected,” Daniel admitted. 

“Still not for you though, eh?” she said knowingly. “I bet I have something here you will like more.”

“Oh. I didn’t expect--I’m really here to buy for my wife.”

“But you will humor me anyway,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“Of course, ma’am, I just don’t want to put you out.” Daniel said. She smiled.

“Mr. Jarvis tells me you like to cook. Is it a hardship to share a dish you love?”

“No ma’am.”

“Good. Now tell me, what food do you miss most from home? A dish you cannot make your own reasonable version of, using local ingredients.” Daniel had to think for a moment. If he went to the right fishmonger, he could get squid and fish as like to cod as made no difference. Oranges were more plentiful here, and coffee was everywhere, so he could make most of his mother’s desserts. 

“Clams,” he said finally. “The mussels here are good, but the other shellfish are different. I haven’t had a proper chowder in years.” Mrs. Li hummed to herself.

“And what do you normally drink? Your favorite things?”

“Red wine at home. German beer if I can get it.” His mouth still watered thinking of the beer that arrived at their base one day, confiscated at the French/German border. There was enough for everyone to get a small glass. It tasted like the best toasted crust on a fresh baked loaf of bread. “Peggy’s tried to get me into scotch, but she likes the very peaty ones, and I prefer the oaky ones. We drink bourbon most often as a compromise.”

“No lapsang souchong for you then, although Mr. Jarvis tells me those are a particular favorite of your wife. I have some ideas. Mr. Jarvis, for you I have a new Earl Grey blend and some new Assam estates.”

“Sounds lovely. As always, I leave it to your discretion, Mrs. Li.”

They made small talk while Mrs. Li prepared samples. Behind the table was a sideboard that held a very large tea chest and a hotplate with a kettle on it. From the chest she took a number of small teabags. They were obviously hand-sewn, the perfect size to make a half cup of tea. Daniel could imagine her filling and sewing them shut in preparation for all her clients.  
He was also beginning to understand why Jarvis didn’t want to bring Peggy here. She would be polite, of course, but there would be no hiding her impatience with Mrs Li’s salesmanship. Peggy would want to buy what she came for and then depart. 

He generally did most of their shopping and he preferred to go alone. Peggy quickly got bored when they shopped. On solo shopping trips she had more than once come home with potatoes that had soft spots and pears or avocados that needed a week to ripen, too impatient to look over piles for what she needed. Daniel understood, but he couldn’t speed up his selections either. The lessons of childhood held firm. He needed to feel the weight and condition of fruits and vegetables to ensure they were getting the best value for each of their pennies. To do less seemed wasteful. 

Tasting the product before buying was an even better assurance. This wasn’t any type of fancy ceremony, but Mrs. Li clearly had a practiced rhythm, preparing the samples in a staggered sequence from lightest to darkest. She knew exactly how long to wait between samples to begin steeping the next. 

Mr. Jarvis had clearly been coming here a long time; he asked after each of Mrs. Li’s sixteen grandchildren by name. Daniel found himself memorizing them out of long habit. Most of his conversations these days were directing agents or interrogating suspects, trying to anticipate outcomes and see through bullshit. No need for that here. Instead he shared a story his sister told him last week about his niece and nephew. Mr. Jarvis told a humorous tale about tending to Stark’s ridiculous menagerie. It was pleasant and restful to just chat instead of looking for the meaning behind the conversation. The danger of his everyday life seemed very distant from the back room of the little shop. 

Peggy must need this too. She was as busy as he was and spent even more time working. Suddenly it didn’t seem enough to just buy more tea for her to enjoy over breakfast. She might be too impatient to enjoy a visit to Mrs. Li’s, but Daniel had another idea on how to encourage her to take a break. Hopefully Mr. Jarvis would willing to help him with a couple more things. 

First, he’d drink his tea and enjoy the moment. As the others chatted, Daniel reflected on how patient Mr. Jarvis was--with Mrs. Li and everyone else. He’d never seen the man interact with anyone save Whitney Frost with less than perfect respect. Even when he had confronted Thompson at Chadwick’s campaign party, Jarvis had spoken much more kindly than Daniel usually managed. It was a rare quality and he had to admire Jarvis’s restraint. That wasn’t quite right, though--he rarely got the impression that Jarvis was restraining himself from anything. Instead he seemed to find something to appreciate in everyone. 

That was probably the trick to it. Most people had their good qualities. It was just harder to remember that when you spent your days tracking down criminals and traitors. It was the same as trying his best to appreciate the tea samples he was served. Nothing Mrs. Li handed him was bad, exactly. Some were quite interesting. Daniel could appreciate the opportunity to sample them; it was just hard to fathom enjoying it as much as he did his coffee. 

Then Mrs. Li struck gold. She knew it by his face. This selection had a discernable flavor of almond, like that of a cookie he had often eaten as a child.

“Dachong from the Xu estate,” she said. “Interesting. I have a couple other selections to give you now.”

He ended up buying all three. Back in the front of the store, Mrs. Li scooped leaves into tins for him. He bought the tea chest that caught his eye as well, filling each of the tins inside with varieties of Dian Hong, Ceylon and yes, lapsang souchong for Peggy. Mrs Li’s spidery writing was familiar, names and brew times scribbled on little pieces of paper, just like on the boxes that Jarvis had been providing. She taped one carefully to each tin before placing it back in the box. 

“She must have liked you,” Jarvis said as they stepped back on the street. 

“Maybe she just enjoys a challenge,” Daniel said. He suspected Mrs. Li and Peggy might have quite a bit in common. 

“Well, I know I enjoyed having you along,” Jarvis said as they headed for the car. “Is there anything else I can be of assistance with?”

“As a matter of fact, I do have a few more ideas you could help me with, if you don’t mind.” Daniel began to sketch out his ideas. By the time the reached the car again, they were deep in conversation.

Distracted, Daniel didn’t notice the men until it was too late.

“Hands in the air, both of you!” A voice commanded. Daniel was bent over, placing his purchases carefully in the trunk of Stark’s car. A quick glance up revealed a man with a gun approaching from the front of the car. He was of average height and had that rough look of a man-for-hire. Another man was to his left, behind Jarvis. Mr Jarvis’ already upright arms were obscuring him. The voice came again from behind Daniel.

“Go on, don’t make me wait all day,” it said. Daniel set down his things carefully and raised his hands slowly.

“Go ahead, turn around Chief Sousa,” the voice goaded. 

The man behind him was short, with a narrow, pockmarked face, but he held his gun with the idle air of a man who was used to having the advantage. He looked vaguely familiar, his clothes several grades above what his men were wearing. His hat alone probably cost more than everything Daniel was wearing put together.

“Mr. Talmage wants a word,” the short man said. “It will be easiest if you come quietly. We’ll even leave your friend here.”

“You’re Spencer Talmage, Jr., aren’t you? What did I do that warranted the heir apparent coming to fetch me?” Daniel asked.

“I go by Spike,” the other man bit out. “You’ve been rather uncooperative thus far. Father thought a civilized conversation might go further than roughing you up again.”

“Can’t hurt, I suppose. How do I know I’m not just headed for a watery grave?”

“We didn’t bust up your little tea party, and we could have. We’ve got you dead to rights, so you can also tell by how we haven’t splattered your brains all over that pretty car.”

“I would like to avoid that if at all possible,” Jarvis interjected. “The trunk is still open and brain matter is simply the worst to get out of upholstery.” There was a querulous note in his voice but his eyes were steady when they caught Daniel’s. Mr Jarvis may be a butler, but he wasn’t inexperienced in this sort of mayhem. It gave Daniel an idea.

“Short-term maybe alright,” Daniel said. “Long-term, I will need a bit more assurance. How does a trade strike you?”

“You think your people can break me while you speak with Father, huh? Sure, why not. How about you let one of my men search you first, and then you can search me before I go off with your friend.” Daniel nodded his assent. 

Mr. Jarvis slowly lowered his hands as the goon behind him stepped forward. The second moved around the car to hold them both in sights while the first man patted Daniel down. The man’s little snicker as he checked Daniel’s prosthetic leg made him want to pull a page from Peggy’s book. He could headbutt the man when he stood, use him as a human shield and then chuck him at the other goon. For that to work, Jarvis would have to go for Talmage at the same time--it was too risky. If he had been there with Peggy, she would have taken the opening, but he couldn’t leave Jarvis exposed like that. Instead he memorized the man in front of him. The rude goon had a weak chin and a soft round nose that was just begging to be broken. He had sandy brown hair and beady little eyes that Daniel met with a promise of future violence.

The doomed goon removed Daniel’s gun from his holster. 

“Hand that to Mr. Jarvis, please.” Daniel said. At a nod from Spike, the man did. Then Daniel stepped over to Talmage.

The man willingly handed his gun over to the goon. A thorough pat down lead Daniel to find a snub nose revolver in an ankle holster and three different knives in various areas, which seemed liked overkill.

“I suggest you sit in back and be driven around for once, Mr. Jarvis. I suspect we have another Dorothy Underwood here, straight from Iowa.” Daniel hoped that would be enough to clue him and Peggy in to his suspicions. Talmage had agreed to the trade far too easily. His goal was likely to collect some intelligence while under SSR custody. Jarvis raised his sidearm at Talmage in mirror of the gun still on Daniel. 

“No need for insults, Chief Sousa. The boys will show you to my car.” Spike nodded at Jarvis and climbed into the driver’s seat. Daniel spared one last glance at them--Jarvis nodded in a reassuring manner--before turning away.

* * *

Daniel expected another restaurant, like Manfredi’s. Italian seemed unlikely, but maybe Russian restaurants could also have red leather booths and be presided over by glowering armed men.

Instead, the goons took him to a pet store. 

They went in through the front and it seemed more or less normal. Fish tanks lined one wall, cages of cats and dogs the other. The center held an enclosure full of brightly colored little birds, squawking and flitting about. The entire place had the heavy scent of reptile musk, probably coming from the top two rows of fish tanks where orange lights glowed. He looked as he was shoved through the store, but he wasn’t close enough to tell if they held venomous varieties. There were two doors on the back wall, and they took the left.

Daniel was shoved unceremoniously into a chair that faced a broad mahogany desk. Behind the desk was a bookshelf which held a very large fish tank with another heat lamp. Curled under it in a perfect circle was a snake, buff and chestnut outlining a perfect diamond pattern on its back. 

The rude man who had frisked him left while the other stood at the door behind him. Daniel had plenty of time to examine the office, which also boasted a small sitting area with leather seating. Daniel also had plenty of time to consider luring the man closer to him, knocking him out, and making a break for it. If his guard had been the man who frisked him, he probably would have done it just for fun. That thought gave him pause. Maybe Peggy was rubbing off on him. It didn’t matter though: that man had left and Daniel was curious about what Spencer Talmage, Sr. would have to say. He also wanted to stall as long as possible, to give the team back at the SSR time to figure out what Jr. was up to. 

Eventually Talmage Sr. entered. His son bore him a strong resemblance, but where Spike had walked like people owed him deference, his father walked like he was willing to take it. 

“Welcome, Chief Sousa. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Is it? And this is your normal strategy for arranging meetings?”

“When necessary. It is a bit hypocritical for you to criticize it, considering some of the things the Feds are doing in the name of hunting Communists. At any rate, I wasn’t sure how else to drive home the fact that I’m quite serious about my next statement.” He paused for moment there, but Daniel just waited. “I’m very interested in coming to an understanding between my organization and the SSR, Chief Sousa. I believe it could be very profitable, for both of us.” 

Daniel didn’t bother to stifle his disbelieving laugh. “You kidnapped me and dragged me out the desert because you want me to go on the take?” 

“No, I didn’t expect you to accept. All my intelligence has told me you’re just as forthright and honest as they come--but a little fear can go a long way. It seemed worth the effort to display the sorts of resources I had at hand and make my offer, on the off chance you’d save us both some trouble.”

“I’ve already seen the bodies you’ve been dropping, and I wasn’t impressed. How long until you give up and arrange trading me back for your son?” 

“When I’m ready,” Talmage said. “Are you sure there isn’t anything you’d like to ask me? A little tidbit of knowledge I can offer in return for even a temporary truce?” Daniel caught the gist then. Talmage was stalling, just as he was. It made sense if Spike had arranged to be taken into SSR custody--he’d need time to accomplish whatever he was after. There would be no point in asking Talmage Sr. anything straight out; the man was hardly likely to incriminate himself.

That didn’t mean Daniel couldn’t learn something.

“There might be one thing. The other man you sent to fetch me--other than your son and this guy,” Daniel said, jerking his head at the goon by the door. “He was quite rude when he frisked me.” Talmage’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“I see. That will certainly need to be addressed. What will you give me for the chance to take it up with the man himself?” Daniel pretended to think on it a moment. He wasn’t planning on giving Spencer Talmage anything, but the man’s response to the negotiation would be illuminating.

“There’s a clue or two the SSR could misinterpret in a way that would temporarily divert the FBI. You’d get a little time to operate without being watched. Say, about a week?” Something in Talmage’s eyes gleamed greedily at that offer. 

“Fierstein, go and get that Reid guy. Get help controlling him, if you need to.”

“But, boss--” the guy at the door started.

“Don’t worry about us. We’re getting along fine, and besides, I’m armed.” Talmage brushed his coat open, displaying a shoulder holster. 

It only took a minute for the chinless goon to be wrestled back into the room between two others. 

“What’s going on?” the harried Reid asked as he was half-pushed, half-dragged into the office. 

“It seems you didn’t follow my instructions,” Talmage said. “I asked you boys to be polite this time when you went to pick up Chief Sousa.”

“If he’s saying I hit him or something, he’s lying! Tell him, Fierstein!” Reid replied.

“Apparently you were less than professional during your frisking,” Talmage said. “Is there nothing you’d like to apologize for?”

“I sure am sorry, boss. I mean it.” 

“It’s not me you owe an apology to, and now it falls on me to make it.” From out of his desk drawer, Talmage took out a small tray with a syringe on it. He added a switchblade to the tray and pushed it across the desk to Daniel.

“Oh, God, no!” Reid cried. “I’m sorry Chief Sousa, I shouldn’t have laughed. I’m so sorry, boss. It will never happen again. I promise!” Talmage ignored his man as he continued to speak. 

“You’ll understand why I can’t offer you a firearm; you might turn it on me. You may use either of these to teach Reid some manners.” The man was just crying now, clearly terrified. Daniel looked between them, sick to his stomach. As much as he wanted to flatten the man’s nose, this was something else entirely. He’d killed Talmage’s other men during a struggle in an attempt to protect himself, but this was different. It would be straight-up murder.

Talmage was apparently trying to learn something about him, as well. 

“I was thinking more that you’d make him clean out some of the animal cages. Or fire him,” Daniel said.

“Come now, Chief Sousa. That’s hardly worth a week to operate unencumbered by law enforcement. You should value yourself more.” Talmage picked up the syringe and stood. Reid collapsed to the floor, still crying. “And my men need to know I value respect.”

Daniel thought about telling him to stop. As much as he was unwilling to watch the man die, he wasn’t really responsible for what Talmage did here, just like how those other men would still be alive if they hadn’t attacked him. The SSR didn’t negotiate with terrorists, and anything he offered to make this stop would not only be against policy but would make him--and the SSR--seem weak. 

So he set his face in a neutral expression, and watched impassively as Talmage jabbed Reid in the neck. From his reaction, he had obviously seen others die in this manner. Sousa mentally said a little prayer for the man as the skin around the injection started to puff up and turn red. The other men in the room turned away, but Talmage fixed his eyes on Sousa. Reid started to howl as if in pain, but his vocalizations were quickly choked off as his throat, mouth and tongue all swelled. Instead he started to thrash in panic for almost a full minute until he mercifully passed out. 

The body continued to twitch for several minutes.

“It acts much faster than real venom,” Talmage said. “I’ve kept snakes my whole life and I’ve always appreciated their nature. They’re really quite docile, until you upset them. Not entirely unlike you, Chief Sousa.”

“Are you calling me cold-blooded?” Daniel asked. 

“Not many men would sit there that calmly. You’re not afraid.”

“If you were going to kill me you already would have. It wouldn’t work out that well for your son, either.”

“Yes. I did admire the way your wife used the SSR to ruthlessly cut through my organization, on her way to recover you.” Talmage glanced as his watch. “I have other business to attend to, I’m afraid. It will be a little while yet until I return you to your compatriots. Can I offer you anything in the meantime? A newspaper or magazine, perhaps?”

* * *

“Again already, Sousa?” Jack’s voice rang out at the exchange. 

“It doesn’t count when I go _willingly_ , Thompson.” His response to Jack’s teasing was automatic, but Daniel only had eyes for Peggy as Talmage’s men departed with Spike. She kissed him soundly, but as soon as Spike had departed she started barking out orders to the men around them.

“I guess you got something, then,” Daniel said, laughing.

“We got something. How did you know that was their play?” Peggy asked. “Mr. Jarvis was unsure.”

“They let me suggest a trade but Spike went along too willingly. He’s not a very good actor.”

“No, he isn’t.” Peggy agreed. “He was pretty obvious when we gave him room to look around as well. Did you get anything?”

“I witnessed Talmage kill someone with that synthetic venom. If the body turns up, we’ll have something against him.”

“You don’t sound very hopeful about that.” 

Daniel shook his head. “He’s smart. He wouldn’t have done that in front of me if he was just going to dump the body somewhere we’d find it. We get a warrant, we can shake down his pet shop, but I wouldn’t expect anything there either.”

“And do I get to know what you and Mr. Jarvis were doing down by the train station in the first place?” she asked. 

“Nope,” Daniel smiled. “It’s not relevant. Maybe I’ll tell you later, if you’re good. How is Jarvis, anyway?”

“He was a little shaky when he showed up with Spike but he seemed to recover quickly. He asks that you call him, when you get a chance.” 

“I’ll do that. Can you get one of the others to drive me home?” Daniel asked. 

“Leaving me alone with Jack again, huh? Going to go home and loaf while I do all the hard work?” Peggy asked with false irritation. She was clearly pleased to be given leave to spend the evening working.

“That’s the idea. After what I know of Talmage now, I’m guessing he did it on purpose to remove me from the investigation. Now he knows you’re a force to be reckoned with, so you should careful, but you can handle it. Nail these bastards to the wall so life can go back to normal, huh?”

* * *

Stepping out of the investigation yet again was frustrating, but it gave him time to work on his plans. He went right to work and it was a good thing he did; Peggy had the case closed in record time. She ended up turning over the evidence to the FBI, as it had been their case originally. If it meant the SSR didn’t get the glory it also meant that they didn’t get the work it took to prepare the case for court. As Chief it was usually Sousa’s job to do the bulk of that preparation, and this way Jack managed to neatly dodge covering for him. 

Getting Peggy out of the house for only the morning while he made preparations was a challenge, but Rose was more than happy help. She mentioned something about shopping for housewares, a task Peggy would have limited patience for at best. 

On Jarvis’s advice, Daniel set forth preparing a delicate looking spread. Vanilla and lemon scones went into the oven and then he assembled sandwiches of several types. They were all suggested by the butler: cucumber-butter, cheddar-pickle, and smoked trout with cream cheese. He cut them into very small pieces and arranged them neatly on plates. 

In the living room he arranged Peggy’s tea things on the coffee table, with extra cups next to the new tea chest. A stack of small plates went next to the napkins--clothed, and he turned down Jarvis’ offer to iron them--and utensils he arranged in a heavy water glass. When the women came through the back door into the kitchen, he put the kettle on. 

“Oh, you’ve read my mind, darling. Rose and I are simply famished and I’m afraid I still don’t understand why we needed a second set of curtains.” She stopped and let him kiss her on the cheek before ducking into the washroom with her packages. 

Rose winked at him. “Your curtains are summer curtains. They’re heavy to keep out the sun and keep the inside cool, but you’ll want something lighter come winter,” she said in the tone of someone who has already explained something several times. 

The doorbell rang. 

“Can you get that, Peggy?” Daniel asked, his head buried in the fridge. He handed Rose plates of sandwiches as Peggy headed for the front door. Then he reached for the very back of the fridge where he had stashed strawberry preserves and clotted cream earlier that week. 

“Ana, what are you doing here? And does it have anything to do with my tea things being out?” Peggy’s voice drifted in from the living room. The kettle started to whistle. 

“Our boys have been plotting on us, it seems. My, those sandwiches look delicious,” Ana Jarvis replied. Daniel finished scooping cream and preserves into bowls just as Rose returned. She seized them both, along with the platter of scones he was slipping from the bread box. 

Peggy came in the kitchen as Rose went out. 

“Daniel, there’s only three cups. Does that mean you’re not staying for this lovely tea?” Her eyes danced. 

“I thought I’d let you girls chat. I’m sure Rose has some scandalous tale of the single life that will be more amusing without her censoring it for my ears.” He had to smile at how pleased she looked, a light blush gracing her cheeks. 

“It doesn’t seem right you don’t get to enjoy this lovely bit of home you made for me, after all that work. Did you make everything yourself?” 

“I did, on Mr. Jarvis’s advice.” 

“And the tea? Did he let you in on the secret?” 

“He did.” Daniel pantomimed a lock at the corner of his mouth and throwing away the key. Peggy tried to glare at him, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “Did I really manage to surprise you?”

“You did, darling. It’s a lovely chest and the presentation even more thoughtful. Obviously I will have to keep a closer eye on you and Mr. Jarvis from here on out. You do get into trouble.”

“We do. Now, go enjoy your guests.” He kissed her on the cheek again. “I’ll be back later.” 

Daniel headed out the backdoor, careful on the steps. Jarvis was still parked in the driveway, so Daniel went over to the driver’s side.

“A successful surprise, I take it?” Mr. Jarvis asked.

“Very successful. Thank you very much for your help.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. It’s not everyday one gets to help catch a talented agent off guard, after all. Although since you’ve invited my wife to tea, I am quite at odds for the afternoon.” 

Daniel hesitated only a moment. “We can’t have that. Can I buy you a beer--Edwin?” 

“Are we likely to find ourselves held at gunpoint again Chie--Daniel?”

“I would hope not,” Daniel said, smiling.

“In that case, it sounds lovely. I would be delighted to drive.” Daniel nodded and started heading around to the other side of the car. He wasn’t really sure what they’d talk about now that the surprise was over, but they’d find something. Maybe Jarvis liked baseball? One thing was for sure--they'd skip the shop talk. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm as big an offender as anyone, but #StopKidnappingDanielSousa2k17
> 
>  [Suggested Reading Order for my canon compliant post S2 fics](http://katiekeysburg.tumblr.com/post/162241330814/ever-wonder-what-order-my-post-season-2-agent)


End file.
